


Meeting the Drell

by plaktow



Category: Mass Effect, Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Cross-cultural, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Vulcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaktow/pseuds/plaktow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise picks up an unusual passenger, whom Spock finds incredibly fascinating in many ways. Meanwhile Jim cannot suppress his jealousy.</p><p>Also available in KSArchive: http://ksarchive.com/viewstory.php?sid=5663&warning=2</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small corrections and tweaks made on 29th July.

James Kirk acknowledged the message from the Engineering and bounced up from his seat.

‘Bones and Spock: with me. Sulu, you have the conn.’

Jim walked briskly to the turbolift without looking back to see if his orders were followed.  He heard Sulu’s sharp “aye aye” from the helm console, where the helmsmen were constantly monitoring the ship’s functions and its surroundings. Spock and Bones were right at Jim’s heels, the former quiet, the latter complaining loudly.

‘I’m just a country doctor, Jim! I haven’t ever even heard of this species, and you want me to heal one of them? I wouldn’t even know where to start! How am I-’

Jim cut his ranting short. ‘Bones, your patient cannot survive the trip to the nearest Starbase. It has to be treated immediately.’

‘Precisely my point!’ Bones nearly shouted, staring hard at Jim and barely controlling himself. ‘She or he, whichever _it_ is, has to be treated, which is something I cannot do! Not without studying it first, and there’s no time for that!’

’What did the ship computer have on the species?’ Jim asked right when the elevator slowed to a halt, and they all stepped out to the corridor leading to the transporter room.  To the doctor’s surprise Spock answered that, before he, Bones, would pop a major artery from sheer frustration.

‘Only two literature references are available, Captain, dated over a hundred years ago. Both are second-hand observations and only state that the species resembles humans in stature and has a reptilian skin.’

They arrived to the transportation room. Bones had now targeted Spock and was venting his frustration at the stoic Vulcan. ‘Reptilian?’ Bones spat, ‘you’ll need a veterinarian for this!’

Jim took one quick look at the unmoving heap on the transporter pad. The creature looked humanoid. It was clad in pseudoleather and protective armor, and had a formidable-looking rifle strapped to its back. No, he had been wrong. The creature did move, very slightly, as if it tried to breathe. Bones saw it too. He motioned at the two security team members as his doctor's instincts kicked in.

‘Quick! Take him to the sickbay!’

Spock turned to look at Jim. The captain smiled: he had been expecting Spock to ask for a permission to assist the doctor and to learn all he could about this new species. Jim didn’t wait for Spock’s question. ‘Maybe you should assist Bones, Spock,’ he said softly. He’d be sorry to lose Spock from the bridge, even if it was only for a few days.  Spock nodded and turned to leave. Jim realized he didn’t even know what their new patient was called, so he shouted to Spock’s retreating back: ‘Spock! What did you say this species was called again?’

Spock turned. ‘They are known as the Drell.’

Jim had barely sat back down to his seat on the Bridge when Bones contacted him through the communicator system.

‘ _He’s stable, as far as I can tell. His life signs are steady, but I have no idea if they’re normal or not. Jim, really, I’m just guessing here! I could as easily kill him as I could cure him!_ ’

‘Do what you can, Bones,’ Jim said with what he hoped was a reassuring tone of voice. ‘Have Spock dig up all the possible information on the Drell while you tend to the patient. Contact me if there are any changes.’

‘ _Affirmative, Captain_ ,’ said Spock’s voice from the comm. Either him or Bones closed the connection without further comments.

Jim slouched lazily on his seat. A Drell… They had transported the creature from a Starfleet shuttle, which had been sent to investigate wreckage at the border of the known galaxy. The scientists had tied the creature to a stretcher and called the Starfleet for assistance, since their own vessel, orbiting the wreckage from a safe distance, had only very primitive medical facilities. As usually seemed to be the case with any weird incident, the _USS Enterprise_ was the closest vessel. The scientists had been only too relieved to get rid of their patient and to return back to their own duties.

Jim had to admit that this was more interesting than flying around and hoping to find something, which was what space exploration was all about. He was curious about the creature, and the reptilian skin fascinated him. The Drell did not look like an animalistic savage like the Gorn, and its armor had been well crafted. Its rifle had been taken to the Engineering for further analysis, but Jim expected it to be technically very advanced.

He just hoped Spock would return to the Bridge soon. He had had half a mind to confess his feelings soon, but had always found an excuse to delay the inevitable. James Kirk was not a patient man: he would not wait for the rest of his life for Spock to make a move. That would be tantamount to waiting for the end of the world, with the exception that the end of the world would come, eventually. He’d tell Spock after this Drell-thing was over. Yes, that would work. Jim nodded to himself.

He’d tell Spock as soon as the Drell had left the ship.

***

‘Doctor!’ Spock said sharply. ‘I received additional data from the researchers at Vulcan Science Academy. I believe this information will be of assistance to you.’

Bones dragged himself over to the workstation where the Vulcan can been working a day and a night now, trying to find more information about the Drell. The patient’s vital signs had increased slightly during the last five hours. It only made Bones angry and frustrated for not knowing what it meant. Was the patient healing? Was he getting worse? What was normal to a Drell? 'The only thing that can assist me now is a long vacation,’ the doctor grumbled. He had been lashing out at Spock and the nurses, like he always did when he felt helpless.

‘Here,’ said Spock and handed a blue memory chip to Bones. ‘I will send a summary of the data to the Captain as well. The data in its entirety has been sent to the Starfleet for a scientific evaluation, after which it will be added to the database of all Starfleet vessels as per protocol.’

McCoy barked his thanks, but only after Spock had already left the sickbay. It was easy for the hobgoblin to speak – he wasn’t responsible for the Drell male’s life! It was a male, Bones now knew. He had found several wounds on the Drell’s skin, but nothing the dermal regenerator couldn’t handle. There didn’t seem to be any internal damage, so why was the male still unconscious? Bones inserted the data chip to the computer, asked it to read the data out loud and wandered over his patient. The Drell was now the only one in the sickbay. Bones stood next to the medical bed and listened as the metallic voice of the computer began to speak.

_The Drell originate from a desert planet Rakhana, which they had to abandon due to unknown reasons. The Drell resemble humanoids by anatomy and basic endocrinology. The color of their reptilian skin is known to vary from green to blue, and is known to excrete a mildly poisonous substance, which causes hallucinations in several species, including humanoids and vulcanoids, if digested. Specific composition of the venom is unknown due to unavailability of research material._

Bones started. A poisonous skin? He’d have to put a warning by the Drell’s bedside.

 _The skeletal muscle tissue of the Drell is 0,54 % denser than that of Vulcans,_ the computer went on. _Their respiratory system requires minimal air humidity to maintain the oxygen balance. Moisture damages their lungs and may cause death by choking. Their history is mostly unknown…_

‘Computer, stop playback!’ Bones shouted while already running full-speed towards the intercom on the sickbay wall. He pressed fervently at the call button, as if that would make the engineers and med team technicians react to it faster. When a junior crewmember finally answered Bones skipped over the usual pleasantries and simply barked a list of demands. While he had got as far as "stand-alone air conditioning with ultrapure class T3 filters" Spock walked in to the sickbay.

‘The Drell must be isolated immediately,’ he said calmly.

Bones, despite is tiredness, felt his face contort to a victorious grin. He had beaten Spock! He tried to look bored. ‘Yes, to prevent damage to his lungs,’ he replied smugly, trying to sound as if he was stating the obvious.

The junior crewman was repeating McCoy’s name over the intercom, so Bones had to turn his attention back to his previous conversation. ‘ _Do you need two chambers prepared, sir?_ ’ the crewman asked uncertainly.

‘What? No! Just one, and be quick about it!’

‘ _he chamber is ready, Sir, as per Commander Spock’s earlier orders. Is the patient ready for transfer?_ ’

Bones felt his cheeks flushing. He huffed his approval, turned the connection off and stared hard at Spock.

‘What in the blue blazes? You’re running the sickbay now? The last time I checked I was the CMO here!’ He knew he was lashing out without a reason again, but damnit, it was infuriating how that bloody pointy-eared spook was always ahead of him!

‘I am aware of your station aboard the ship, Doctor.’

‘Then how about you let me give the orders concerning my patients? And now, if you excuse me, I have one to tend to,’ Bones snarled and greeted the nurses who had just appeared to take the patient to the isolation.

Spock stood still and watched intently as the Drell was gently lifted from the medical bed, placed on the antigrav stretcher, covered with blankets and pushed away. Spock's warm gaze was locked on to the stretcher until the sickbay doors finally closed behind the medical staff. Spock was left alone in the sickbay. He thought of the information he had just acquired, and of the Drell. He found the species extremely fascinating, and was looking forward to studying all he could about them once the male would regain consciousness. It intrigued him that the Drell were from a desert planet, like himself. They were also deeply religious, like were many Vulcans. The Drell had eidetic memory, again like the Vulcans. They were stronger than humanoids and believed the soul was separate from the body, just like Vulcans were stronger than humans and could transfer their _katra_ at the time of their death.

Spock’s feet were moving on their own accord as he kept thinking about the similarities. The young Drell were apparently abandoning the ways of the old, or so the data from the VSA had said. The same was true to Vulcan, were Surak’s teachings were more frequently considered old-fashioned. _Do the Drell, too, live solitary lives?_ Spock thought as he turned around a corner and failed to return a salute from a lab tech. The Drell even had a nictating membrane in their eyes, just like Vulcans! What had their home world been like? What had turned it inhabitable and forced the Drell to flee? What gods did they worship?

Spock became aware of someone staring at him. He raised his eyes and met those of McCoy’s. He had arrived at the isolation area.  

‘I… I came to make sure the chamber has been prepared as per your requirements,’ Spock explained vaguely while his eyes darted at the Drell. The man was in a transparent tent, hooked to several med scanners, while the doctor and the nurses stood outside and monitored the scanner readings. The Drell had a vibrantly green skin, with large closed eyes under a ridge over his brow. He had pink lips. Sharp ridges ran down his cheeks, but they were pale in color - perhaps due to his condition? The Drell was about as tall as Spock, but more muscular. He had no hair, but there were long green and black scales over his head. His cheeks and his neck were of a brownish hue, and he had no ears that Spock could see.

Bones, too, looked at the Drell, and then turned his gaze back at Spock. He sighed.

‘He’s breathing more deeply now, and his oxygen levels are rising. I reckon he’ll come to in a few hours. Send my thanks to the Academy, will you?’

Spock nodded. From what he could see, the man had well developed pectorals and strong shoulders. The rest was covered in blankets. Spock forced his eyes to look away from the slowly rising and declining chest of the Drell.

‘Oh, and Spock… thanks,’ McCoy said finally. This time Spock was prepared: he had learned how much humans needed to verbally express gratitude even when one did only what was expected. He had also learned the customary reply in such situations.

‘You are welcome,’ Spock said automatically before he turned on the balls of his feet and left.

Bones remained still, his mouth gaping open. _You are welcome_? Bones shook his head briskly, turned towards his patient and forgot all about Spock.

***

Jim took a hearty bite of his sandwich and munched on it happily. He had had a long morning reviewing weekly reports, sitting in technical and administrative meetings and generally doing all that boring stuff they never talk to you in the Academy. At lunch time he had finally stolen a bit of time for himself and was now sitting in the mess hall.

Bones slumped on the opposite chair and placed his light lunch on the table.

‘What’s up?’ the doctor asked, while eyeing at Jim’s mayonnaise-filled sandwich disapprovingly.

‘Oh, you know. Nothing much. How’s the … the… patient of yours doing?’

‘The Drell? Something about him is just weird, Jim. His vitals are okay, he breathes evenly, his body temperature is steady, his EEG and EKG appear normal, but he just doesn’t wake up! It’s as if… as if something was keeping him asleep.’

‘Some disease, you mean?’

Bones was quiet, stared at the ceiling and apparently hadn't even heard what Jim had said. Jim saw McCoy’s lips moving as the doctor thought to himself. The Captain would've left the doctor alone, but one thing was bothering him. He put on an air of nonchalance as others might put on a coat.

‘So, Bones, has Spock been of any assistance? Haven’t seen him on the Bridge at all lately.’

Bones seemed to wake up. He blinked, focused his eyes at Jim and furrowed is brow. ‘The green-blooded hobgoblin? I have no time to keep an eye on him.’

‘You mean he’s not at the sickbay?’ Jim pushed his sandwich aside. It had lost all flavor. He was aware his voice was faltering just slightly, and hoped Bones didn’t hear it. Jim hadn’t seen Spock, and now Bones was saying Spock wasn’t at the sickbay either. A tiny hint of worry flickered in his eyes.

Bones was trained in psychology, and did not miss the change in Jim’s mood. He swallowed and pursed his lips. Bones then quickly put on a happy face and said cheerfully: ‘He’s probably studying the Drell. He got me a bunch of really good data from the VSA, and I’m sure he’s busy running tests on the various samples we’ve taken from the poor patient. You know how Spock is: he gets something in his mind, and he sticks to it like a rabid terrier. Nothing to worry about.’

‘Hmmh,’ was the only answer Bones got. From the corner of his eye Jim saw nurse Chapel, who was picking up a bow of spicy-scented soup from the replicators. Jim recognized the smell of the dish.

‘That’s _plomeek_ soup. Excuse me,’ he said abruptly and rushed after nurse Chapel, leaving Bones alone at the table picking at his salad.

His mind full of old whodunnits, where private detectives stalked the criminals like shadows, Jim tiptoed after Chapel. Just as he had expected the nurse headed directly to Spock’s cabin and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Jim waited until Chapel gave up and left, before he himself walked at the door. The door’s sensors recognized the Captain and let him in.

The cabin was empty. It was as tidy as ever: no PADDs scattered about or screens turned on so Jim could’ve seen what Spock had been up to. He did see one PADD on Spock’s bed, however. In a flash of jealousy (which he did NOT feel, mind you, he was merely worried) Jim commanded the computer to play the last viewed entry.

_... guardian, while being a fierce warrior. Arashu is the Drell Goddess of protection and motherhood, a fascinating combination present in many religions throughout the Universe. Perhaps the most interesting of them all is Kalahira, the Goddess of oceans and afterlife…_

‘Shut up!’ Jim huffed, more angrily than he intended. Again the Drell. Suddenly it dawned on Jim that Spock had never mentioned that “really good data” Bones was so grateful about. Maybe Spock didn’t consider it to be of any importance to Jim. Maybe the chess match they were supposed to have yesterday was also of no importance, since Spock had not shown up.

His emotions were a mix of definitely-not-jealousy, worry and childish annoyance at not being the center of attention. Jim stalked out from Spock’s rooms and headed towards the part of the sickbay where the mysterious lizardman lay in his isolation tent.

Jim saw Spock as soon as he entered the separate wing of the sickbay. The transparent tent was at the center of the small room, and right next to the tent was Spock’s familiar figure. Spock didn’t even flinch, but Jim was sure the Vulcan had heard him. Still, Jim stayed at the door and watched how Spock carefully opened the side flap of the tent.  Jim could see Spock reach for the Drell and crouch over him, and imagined hearing a quiet muttering, which he for some reason interpreted as a Vulcan prayer.

Spock stepped inside the tent and sat down on a flimsy chair next to the bed. His fingers brushed the black and green skin of the Drell gently, only barely touching him. He was afraid that a firmer touch would be too risky for a touch telepath like himself, since he did not have enough data to estimate the mental capabilities of the Drell. There was the tiniest of beeps when the medical scanner informed that the Drell’s heartbeat had quickened for a short while. Spock didn’t turn close the tent flap behind him. He never saw Jim, who stood absolutely still in the doorway, his lion's eyes sad and longing.

‘He’s there, isn’t he?’

Jim jumped at the sudden interruption. Bones stood by him and watched Jim gravely. Jim nodded. Bones closed his eyes and sighed.

‘He goes there every day. Just stands there and watches the Drell through the plastic curtains. Gods only know what goes through his mind. Anyway, Jim, I’m sure there’s no reason-‘

Bones had stepped next to Jim, and his eyes had caught the crouched figure in the isolation tent. Things might have developed very differently from there if McCoy’s doctor’s instincts hadn’t kicked in full force.

‘Hey! What the blazes do you think you’re doing? Get out of there! You’re letting moist air in, and gods know what you’re letting out!’ Bones shouted while fervently adjusting the air ventilation and climate controls to restore the proper levels of oxygen and moisture inside the tent.

Spock emerged from the tent, calm as ever. ‘Every precaution has been followed, Doctor. My entrance has increased his oxygen intake by 0,02 %, which is physiologically an unimportant change. I had adjusted the air ventilation accordingly to disallow any microbial contamination outside the tent.’

After inspecting the settings Bones realized he couldn’t argue with that. Every telltale light at the control panel showed bright green. Spock closed the tent flap and sprayed himself with a decontaminant. Jim noticed Spock paid extra attention to his hand, where his skin had been in direct contact with the Drell.

‘What were you doing in there?’ Jim managed to ask, while Bones rushed to check the medical monitors for any disturbances or changes. To the Captain’s disappointment Spock remained quiet. _Either he doesn’t want to say, or feels it is unimportant_ , Jim guessed. ‘You’re driving Bones insane, Spock. Better to stay away from here, yeah?’ Jim risked a smile. ‘You free for a game of chess?’

Spock was about to answer when Bones interrupted them with an urgent shout. ‘Come over!’

Jim and Spock stepped inside the tent side by side. The creature’s eyes were flickering open, and his full, round lips parted slightly. When he opened his eyes he looked directly at Spock, as if he couldn’t see anyone else. Jim forced himself to ignore that.

‘You’re at the _USS Enterprise_. This is a Starfleet vessel, currently patrolling at the edges of the Beta Quadrant. You were brought over after researchers found you in a heap of rubble and debris. Can you remember anything about it?’ the Captain asked. His previous annoyance was melting, leaving him only with curiosity and concern for the Drell. The feeling-other-than-jealousy shrunk to a tiny pebble in his heart.

‘I… remember a crash,’ the creature said, still looking at Spock. His voice was deep and rasp, like he had a sore throat. Bones offered him a drink, which the Drell gladly accepted. ‘Where is my weapon?’ he asked then, still with the same, strange voice. It reminded Jim of old blues singers, who apparently had drunk so much whisky and smoked so many cigarettes their voice had turned from gold to gravel. His eyes were large and entirely black, gleaming, beautiful.

‘All your belongings are safe,’ Jim assured him. ‘Where was your vessel traveling to? Where did you come from? How-’

Bones pushed Jim aside. ‘Not now. He needs to rest.’

The Drell glanced at Bones, then at the medical monitor above him, and pushed himself to a sitting position. Spock stepped forward. ‘I will show where you can meditate.’ Spock made no attempt to support the Drell, who didn’t seem to even expect any help.

‘Spock!’ Jim and Bones barked in unison. Neither the Drell or Spock paid any attention to them while slowly making their way away from the sickbay. The Drell stumbled at first, but each step was steadier than the previous. Jim and Bones stood quiet, listening, until the footsteps of the two aliens had faded.

Suddenly a horrid, forlorn thought struck Jim. ‘Spock was the only non-human onboard,’ he whispered to himself. _How alone has he felt? How much has he truly needed company, someone like himself, someone ... someone more than a mere human like me?_

‘Until now,’ Bones specified while already fiddling with the room controls again. Forgetting all about Jim McCoy began to call in for a team to disassemble the isolation tent and to do a complete disinfection of the section.

‘He was the only one… until now,’ Jim whispered again. He felt hollow inside. He blinked. The hollowness remained. He imagined being the only human in a ship full of aliens, perhaps those green Orion slavers, and how he’d feel if an injured humanoid would suddenly show up.

Jim needed a drink. But Bones was busy, Scotty’s shift had only just begun, and Spock was quite obviously not an option. _Damn!_ Muttering under his breath Jim skulked back to the Bridge, forced himself to ignore the empty science station and tried his best to drown himself to endless, boring bureaucracy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoiler alert: contains references to Mass Effect 2.

Spock took the Drell to his own quarters, which were already suitable for someone from a desert planet. He had made sure the temperature was even higher than usual and that the air humidity was kept to a minimum.

‘Should you require anything use the intership communicator system,’ Spock advised and pointed at the red device implanted to the wall. ‘The replicators are at the mess hall, down the hallway. I believe you will find their selection limited but adequate.’

The Drell nodded gratefully, closed his eyes and began to breathe slowly, in a controlled manner. Spock left him alone and returned to the Bridge.

Jim did not greet him. He didn’t acknowledge Spock’s existence in any way, wrapped up in his jealousness as he was. So for once Spock worked without interruptions. He ran short- and long-range scans, analyzed the results and catalogued the findings to various databases. He reviewed reports concerning the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ , found several systems working with suboptimal effectiveness and ordered necessary corrections to be made. The coolant capacity for the impulse engine could be increased by 4.6 %, but for that he needed additional supplies. Spock filed a purchase request with the procurement.

Spock did not think of Jim at all.

Jim thought of Spock approximately every time he heard him move at the science station.

McCoy, who visited the Bridge a few times during the shift, didn’t dare to speak to either Jim or Spock. He had his hands full with nurses and medical scientists, who couldn’t wait to get their hands on Spock’s pet. That’s what they called the Drell now – Spock’s pet. Bones feared Jim would explode if he heard the name. As soon as he dared he made an excuse to leave the Bridge and stayed away.

Spock left the Bridge immediately when his shift ended, and found the Drell sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor in the Commander's own quarters. The Drell was clothed in loose robes of pale brown color and seemed to be deep in meditation. Still, when Spock entered the room, he opened his soulful black eyes.

‘Mr. Spock. You never asked me my name,’ the Drell said. Spock did not answer: names were not important to him. The humans have a saying “names just get in the way”, but Spock just had not had any use for the Drell’s name yet. Still he found himself intrigued. It was obvious the Drell had used the ship’s computer, or perhaps just left the cabin and read the name plate next to the door.

The Drell stood up, elegantly and effortlessly. His robes made a quiet rustling sound. ‘My name is Thane Krios,’ he said then, with that hypnotic, raspy voice. ‘I am a Drell. I wish to thank the doctor for saving my life… or what’s left of it.’

Spock did not speak. There was nothing to say.

‘And you are Spock, the son of Sarek, half-Vulcan and half-human. Tell me, Spock the son of Sarek…’ Thane stepped closer to Spock, so close the hems of his robes almost touched Spock’s legs. ‘Why did you wake me? You touched my face. You were there by my side, you guarded me and cared for me. Why?’

Spock swallowed. He had allowed his pulse to fasten, but now he forced his heartbeat to slow down and his body temperature to drop. He controlled his breathing. He controlled himself.

‘It seemed like the logical thing to do.’

It was not necessary to explain the principles of IDIC, infinite diversity in infinite combinations. The Drell were an unknown species. Protecting them was the only logical course of action. even without additional philosophies.

Thane bowed his head. Spock watched curiously at the long, flexible scales where hair should’ve been, and saw the light glimmer faintly from the tips of the scales.

‘As you say, _siha_ ,’ Thane said quietly, and gazed at Spock once more with those large eyes of his. They were pure black. When he blinked, Spock could see the white nictating membrane flashing over the eye, almost too fast to notice. ‘I owe my life to you. Whenever you need me, call, and I will come. Whatever you need, ask, and I shall give.’ Thane stepped farther away from Spock, whose body twitched as if some magnetic force was pulling him towards the Drell.

‘It would seem wise for us to learn more about your species and your culture,’ Spock said. It was not precisely a question, but Thane seemed to understand. The Drell spun around and thought for a while before answering.

‘You will have my thoughts?’ Thane asked and coughed.

 _Interesting_ , Spock thought. _He has learned a lot during my absence. He is logical and intelligent. His build suggests reasonable strength and agility as well. Despite his weaponry, he is neither aggressive nor violent, which suggests he is capable of killing but only when he chooses to. A code of honor, most likely._

Spock rubbed his hands together, emptied his mind, and placed his fingers on the meld points on Thane’s face. _Body temperature of 39 degrees Celsius. Skin is warm and dry. Pulse slower than a human’s._ His mind classified and stored all the information his senses gathered from the Drell even before the mind meld was initialized.

Thane closed his eyes. Spock closed his own, leaned closer and inhaled deeply of the very mild, fresh scent of the Drell; it reminded him of forests and vegetation. _Strange, considering he is from a desert planet._

Spock probed Thane’s mind gently and carefully. In his own mind he saw himself as Thane, travelling through deep space on a one-way trip, wanting to see what he could before he would die. Breathing in the simple vessel was a struggle. _He is ill?_ Spock reached farther in Thane’s memories. He saw fights, honorable battles where Thane stood side by side with humans and other, strange species, against machines and machine-like drones. He saw a gigantic citadel floating in space, and felt obligation, almost a need, to kill. Money, deaths… _Thane is an assassin_! Spock’s body tensed at the realization.

‘Shepard… the Reapers… Garrus… the Harbinger…’ Spock whispered words he read in Thane’s mind, but they meant nothing to him. There were too many memories, the images were too vivid for him to comprehend. It was like watching a movie in fast forward. Spock felt himself submerging in Thane’s mind, knew he should end the meld but he was too curious, too fascinated by everything he saw and experienced, and now he saw a woman, a Drell woman with strange eyes…

Spock fell. He fell to the strange mind of the Drell, unable to prevent it or slow the fall. He lost all sense of himself and of the Enterprise.  His own history, emotions and knowledge were pushed aside as he became Thane Krios.

 _Her sunset-colored eyes defiant in the scope._   _I see her standing in the line of fire, and she sees me. Her eyes accuse me through the distance: how dare you?_

Years pass, moments fly before Thane’s eyes. There is no Spock.

_She is my wife now, my darling Irikah. I miss her when I am away, and I am away often. I have to kill. I have an obligation, so many duties to perform, and I miss her sunset eyes. She holds a child in her arms. She holds my son._

More years pass. Years filled with a sense of duty, but also a sense of regret. So much pain! So many things that should have been, but never were!

_She has gone. She has died. I was not there, she died, and my son has gone. I was not there for her. I abandoned her like I abandoned my son._

_I abandoned her. I abandoned my son._ The beautiful face of Irikah Krios hovers before Thane’s eyes, and his son’s voice echoes around the room. _He blames me. I’ve lost him._

The pain is unbearable. He shouts aloud, his voice full of anguish and desperation, but he is unable to cry. There is nothing to ease the pain, nothing but duties now, and death. _Merciful goddess Kalahira, please take me to the Afterlife, let me drown in your oceans…_

He stops screaming. His voice trembling he speaks:  ’Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness.  
Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand; Kalahira, wash the sins from this one.’

More pain. Physical. His face, it hurts. Again. Vaguely he lifts his arms against the attacker, who or whatever it is.

The sunset-colored eyes… Irikah… who is Irikah? He doesn’t remember. Pain.

‘Damnit, Spock! Snap out of it!’

Another hit.

‘Do you hear me? Snap out of it!’

James T. Kirk shouted, slapped Spock and shook him. Spock opened his eyes and truly saw where he was.  He fumbled at first, but soon controlled himself again and managed to thwart the Captain’s attempts to bring him back to his senses.

‘I assure you, Captain, I’m quite alright.’

‘Spock! What the hell just happened? Spock!’ Jim was truly upset, and held Spock by his arms for a few seconds more than necessary. Jim’s hazel eyes were full of fear and concern for his first officer – and his best friend.  Spock’s own eyes darted here and there for a while, until his gaze finally settled on Jim. Spock didn’t say a word. All the thanks the captain needed were right there in Spock’s beautiful, dark eyes.

Jim both saw and felt how Spock’s muscles seized to tremble. Kirk let out a long sigh and slowly turned to Thane. ‘Did you do this to him? What is Kalahira?’

‘Jim!’ Spock said in a stern tone, now completely in control of himself. His mind buzzed and his ears hummed, while his brain analyzed and categorized his own memories from those of Thane Krios. He knew now what went wrong, and mentally berated himself for not thinking about the possibility earlier.

‘The Drell, they… they have eidetic memories.  But unlike the Vulcans, they cannot control them,’ Spock explained.

Thane coughed for a while and then nodded. He was standing between two burly guardsmen, who stared at the Drell like he was a piece of filth. His black eyes were fixed on Spock. ‘They are what we call memory recalls. We fall back to the moment of the memory, recalling every single detail of it,’ Thane said in that curious raspy voice of his.  ‘I was not aware it posed a risk to Mr. Spock.‘

Jim heard the sincerity in his voice, so he turned his attention back to Spock. Behind his back he waved his hand at the security guards, who took the hint and lead Thane away. Jim was left alone with Spock. Without realizing what he was doing Jim gently stroked Spock’s cheek, wanting so badly to comfort the man and to make sure he really, truly was alright. Spock’s eyes flashed.  Jim quickly pulled his hand away.

‘Are you alright?’ Jim asked quietly, his voice filled with gentleness and caring. Spock nodded and clambered up from the floor, where he apparently had fallen to during the disastrous mind meld.

‘Are you sure? I could walk you to the sickbay.’

Spock squeezed his lips shut, as if he was annoyed. He was apparently still shaken from the experience, and would need to meditate to fully regain his composure.

‘Jim, I am in perfect health, but unless I am required on the Bridge, I would prefer to meditate. In solitude.’

Jim stood up, glanced once last time at Spock and nodded. ‘Alright. Report to the Bridge when you’re fit for duty.’ Jim realized Spock would consider himself ‘fit for duty’ as long as he had a pulse, and quickly corrected: ‘Actually, report to the Bridge before alpha shift tomorrow and I’ll have you sent to sickbay.’ Yeah, that should work. Threatening Spock with McCoy was like telling a child there’d be no dessert, but it worked like a charm. Jim had to suppress a grin.

‘Yes, Captain.’

‘Good. I need you by my side,’ Jim said kindly and smiled.

Had Spock been a woman, he would have noticed the hopeful blink in Jim’s eyes, the softer than usual tone in his voice, and the tension in his body as he hoped against hope that Spock would return his affections. He did not. Spock merely stood in the middle of his cabin, swaying slightly and holding his head.

Jim’s smile died on his lips as he stepped out to the corridor and the cabin doors closed behind him.

A few hours later Jim found himself at the security, asking for the Drell. The guards currently on duty lead him to the holding cell, where Thane sat calmly in a small room with no furniture save for an uncomfortable bench. When he saw Jim he stood up and walked closer to the electric shield, which was the only thing separating him from the Captain.

‘How is Mr. Spock?’ Thane asked before Jim had managed to say anything. His black eyes stared at Jim intently, and his fists were clenching. A long tongue flashed over the pink lips.

‘You tell me,’ Jim replied, enthralled by the Drell’s eyes. The lights danced on those black pearls, and every time Thane blinked a pale nictating membrane flashed over his eye. His skin, although reptile-like, did not appear wet and didn’t gleam in the light at all.

‘He is healthy,’ said a deep voice from the doorway. Thane’s eyes brightened considerably, and even Jim smiled softly at the sight of his first officer. Spock looked like himself again, without any hints of the inner turmoil he had experienced just a few hours ago.

‘It is good you are here, Captain. I must perform the Vulcan mind-meld with Mr. Krios again, and I will need your help if anything goes wrong. Guards, lower the shield.’

The redshirt by the control console threw a few switches, and the glimmering shield vanished. Spock stepped inside the cell before Jim had time to protest. Thane stepped away from Spock, and bumped against the bulkhead.

‘What? No, I forbid it! Spock! That is a direct order!’ Jim barked. Inside the cell Spock pressed his fingers over the meld points forcefully, ignoring Jim’s commands altogether. Jim gasped. He didn’t have to worry for long: within a minute Spock lowered his hands and stepped away from the cell. The shield was back on almost before he was out.

‘Just what was that?’ Jim demanded.

‘The mind-meld is essentially two-way telepathy,’ Spock whispered. Jim’s skin shivered: there was something enticingly intimate about Spock whispering to him, out here before the guards, whispering and looking at him with those deep brown eyes. Spock stood so close Jim could feel the warmth of his breath on his face when the Vulcan spoke.

‘During the memory recall I…. I lost control.’ When Spock said it he squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Jim could imagine Spock shuddering inside. There was no greater shame for the Vulcan than to lose control. ‘It was imperative I made sure no information concerning Starfleet was transferred during the incident.’

‘And this second meld proved it?’ Jim asked quietly. He didn’t know how good a hearing the Drell had, but it didn’t matter. When Spock whispered, replying with a normal voice would have been sacrilege. Jim found it difficult to control his own voice. Spock was so close now, so humble and so humiliated! Jim wanted to reach out and pull the Vulcan to his arms, to hold him, to run his fingers through that black silky hair and to assure him everything was alright. He twitched towards Spock, but caught himself just in time.

‘Affirmative,’ Spock confirmed. ‘With your permission, I’d like to return to my duties.’

Jim nodded reluctantly. He wanted to keep Spock there for a moment longer, but could find no pretenses for it. Once again Jim gave himself that familiar promise: _I will tell him. I have to tell him. It is no crime, it is not against the regulations, and he’ll just regard my confession as illogical ramblings of an emotional human anyway. I have to tell him._

Jim gave the guards orders to release Thane Krios, and returned to his tasks.

***

After working three shifts in a row Spock returned to his quarters. He was not tired, but found it easier to focus on his scientific pursuits in the quiet of his own cabin. His mind was now full of knowledge the Starfleet would need. He knew so much about the Drell; much was still unclear, but during the memory recall his brain had been flooded with images, voices, scents and sensations. It had taken him an immense amount of energy to remember who he was, and to sort all that information out.

Spock had nearly died during that mind-meld. Not physically, but he had almost forgotten who he was: he would have turned into a living, breathing body with no grasp of the present. His chances of survival had been approximately 1.45 %, and even less for a full recovery.

He had lost control. It was unacceptable.

He could not allow such a thing to happen again. He would meditate and run through novice exercises until … until what? Just until, Spock decided.

Spock began to dictate his report to the computer.

 _A report on alien species, to be filed under the species name_ Drell _. Dictated by Commander Spock, serving aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, vessel number NCC-1701._

Spock took a short break while he planned how to explain the source of his information. He decided it was not lying to leave out bits of the truth, and so he continued:

_Information received through a Vulcan mind-meld with a male Drell known as Thane Krios. The Drell are a highly religious and emotional species. They respect life, but see the soul and the body as two separate entities. According to the Drell philosophy the soul is not responsible for the actions of the body._

Spock lost the track of his thoughts at the last word. Body. Thane’s body was so different from his own, and so different from that of humans. Spock remembered the few anatomical charts he had provided to McCoy from the Vulcan Science Academy. The green skin fascinated him immensely. It was smooth and warm to the touch, he knew, and dry and soft. Absent-mindedly Spock’s fingers stroked his own wrist. His skin was smooth and warm, too, but frail and thin compared to that of the Drell.

Spock flexed the muscles of his arm. If he focused, he could remember how Thane’s skin had bulged as the muscles moved beneath the thick scales. Spock had only few hairs on his body, not including his jet black hair and the soft fur on his chest and abdomen. Did the Drell have body hair? Thane had no hair, no eyebrows, and no beard that Spock could see. It was … not frustrating, but unpractical to know what Thane’s favorite dish tasted like, but not to know his physiology.

Spock’s fingers moved to his almost gaunt cheek. His skin was similar in nearly everywhere on his body. Thane, however, had sharp ridges running down his cheeks and neck. The underside of his chin and his neck were dark red, almost brown, unlike the rest of his skin which was colored in varying shades of green and black. Spock ran his fingers down his neck and over his own collar bone. His lips parted slightly as he touched himself; he would have to find out more. It was his duty as a science officer. He would have to learn more.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ Spock invited. The doors hissed open, and Thane Krios stepped inside. Spock froze. Thane coughed, and something screamed inside Spock’s mind. What was it now? A memory, something about the coughing, something about why Thane had not been able to wake up after the crash? Spock tried to remember. A disease? Yes, a sickness. Thane was sick. Spock drew breath as the memory unveiled itself in its entirety.

‘I have not had the chance to thank you,’ Thane said. ‘Is there anything else you desire than my thoughts?’

‘You’re sick,’ Spock blurted. Thane blinked.

‘Kepral’s Syndrome. Are you familiar with it?’

Spock shook his head very slightly.

‘Our home world is a desert planet. The air there is dry and hot, somewhat like what you have here in your quarters. But that world was destroyed, and elsewhere the air is usually more humid. In Kepral’s syndrome the humidity destroys the lung tissue, which no longer can exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide effectively enough. It takes years to develop, but eventually it is a lethal disease with no known cure.’

A question formed itself in Spock’s mind. He was reluctant to ask it, but Thane must have seen the worried reflection in Spock’s eyes.

‘How long do I have? I do not know. Maybe a year, maybe only months. It is not important: we all die once, and I do not fear Death. I only pray for Kalahira to be merciful to me.’

Thane was quiet for a long while, and then repeated his question.

‘Is there anything else you desire than my thoughts?’

Spock had lost his control during the mind meld, and had no intent to lose it again. Still his tongue was faster than his brain.

‘Yes,’ he said, took a step closer to Thane and touched the red and brown cheek with his eager fingers. Thane did not even flinch, his black eyes merely regarded Spock calmly. Spock ran his fingers over the sharp brow above Thane’s eyes, and over the sharp, spiky scales behind his cheeks. Even there the skin was warm, soft and smooth to the touch. A pale Vulcan finger drew a soft line from Thane’s cheek to his neck, where the skin was softer and very softly ridged.  Spock felt the steady pulse of the Drell.

Thane let out an extremely low growl, which almost resembled a purr of a gigantic cat. As he growled his throat inflated slightly. Spock realized he probably heard only a part of the sound the Drell was currently making; there was likely a low-frequency component as well, intended to convey some vital information to other Drell. Spock touched the inflated throat softly and tried to sharpen his hearing, but to no avail. Spock huffed to himself and continued his inspections. Thane became quiet again.

‘No pores,’ Spock muttered. His mind was racing. The Drell’s skin was thick and almost waxy, perfect to preserve moisture in a hot desert climate. The skin was not affected in Kepral’s Syndrome. Without pores the Drell could not change gases through their skin like many other species did. _Fascinating_.  Spock let his hands drop to his sides. He would need samples of the lung tissue, which was easy enough with the instruments in the sick bay. He would need to analyze the blood as well, and the structure and composition of the blood cells. He would need to –

Without a word Thane reached behind his back, clicked something open and removed the piece of armor covering his upper body. A few more clicks and tugs had removed his padded pants too, leaving him standing before Spock only in his underwear.

Spock had always been embarrassed of his heritage. He loved and respected his mother greatly, but had always considered his human genes as an affliction. His human side, or whatever percentage of himself which was actually human, was especially troublesome in emotive situations - such as this. There was a half-naked Drell before him, handsome and willing to obey. The human side of Spock was licking its lips lustily and grinning. The Vulcan side of him kept on analyzing the information now available. It considered it a mere courtesy that Thane revealed himself for inspection, while the Human Spock wanted to get rid of its own clothes and behave in a manner most inappropriate for a Starfleet officer. The Vulcan reminded the Human that there was no scientific data available regarding the compatibility of Drell and Vulcan genitalia, nor of the possible medical risks involved.

Like always, the impatient Human was quickly subdued. Spock forced his pulse to decrease and willed the unwanted bulge in his pants to disappear. He walked around Thane, touching him, tracing the lines of his muscles and taking in every single change in the texture, color, hardness and warmth of the skin. With surgical precision he traced each vertebra and calculated the relative sizes of each body part. Spock’s mind recorded every detail, forming connections to the data from McCoy’s charts and creating endless hypotheses and new questions. His unconsciousness compared the Drell to other known humanoid species, noting the differences and similarities.

Spock took Thane’s hand to his own. Their hands were nearly the same size, but Thane’s third and fourth finger were almost fused. Spock checked his mental guards: still in place. Good. As a touch telepath he had to be careful now. He could not risk any involuntary sharing of memories anymore. Still, he had to find out everything he could while there was still time.

Time. How much time was there? Spock pushed the thought aside and continued his study.

He took in the structure of Thane’s feet and legs. The bones and joints resembled those of humanoids. There were four toes in each foot – no, there were five, but again the third and fourth toe were fused. The foot was all in all slightly longer than Spock had expected, and the muscles in Thane’s calfs and thighs were well developed. The Drell carried himself upright like humanoids, his spine was straight and is posture all in all very much like that of humans and Vulcans. He was strong and his muscles well balanced, which would not be the case once the disease rendered him unable to breathe properly. He would grow weak and tired. His muscles would shrivel, his posture would collapse, his black eyes would lose their spark. Absent-mindedly Spock caressed the green palm he was holding with his thumb. Thane’s fingers would no longer be able to grab a weapon or to pull the trigger, which so far had been his profession as an assassin.

The human Spock reached out for its Vulcan counterpart. For once they agreed.

‘Mr. Krios –’

‘Thane, please, Mr. Spock.’

‘Thane, I need to get tissue samples. The Enterprise has quite advanced medical and scientific instruments and highly skilled staff. With enough data I can formulate possible treatments for the disease. A chance of finding a cure is approximately 9.54 %, but it is 60 percentage units more likely we will find a treatment which will stop the condition from growing worse.’

Spock produced an effective disinfectant from the replicator and cleaned his hands. The skin of the Drell secreted a mild hallucinogen, and it was not yet the time to test its properties.

The corners of Thane’s mouth twitched, as if he was holding back a smile. Kepral’s Syndrome had been researched time and again, but it was still untreatable. Still, he owed this pointy-eared man his life, and would give much more than mere samples to help him in his endeavors.

‘I will report to the sickbay immediately,’ Thane promised, and began to collect his clothes from the floor.

‘In 10 hours would be better,’ Spock suggested. He knew McCoy would then be on a break, and he could take and analyze the samples himself. There was no need to get the good doctor mixed up in all this just yet.

Thane nodded. ‘I shall return to the quarters the Captain has prepared for me. Remember, _siha_ – all you need to do is call, and I shall come.‘  Thane’s eyes sparkled, and the white nictating membrane flashed in and out of sight as he blinked. ‘I will see you in 10 hours.’

He finished dressing up, turned and left.

Spock returned immediately to dictating his report, to which he now had many topics to add. It was his duty. It was not because the human in him was shivering and shaking, rolling its eyes and practically panting. It was not because the human had its mind full of inappropriate thoughts concerning the Drell. Spock was not working to forget the sight of the naked Thane, and his own initial reaction to the enticing apparition.

Once again Spock willed his pulse to decrease and his swollem manhood to shrink. _Really, how can Humans stand this?_

He had work to do.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Jim was beginning to get anxious. Ever since the Starfleet had confirmed that finding the cure for Kepral's Syndrome was Spock's highest priority task the Bridge had felt empty. In the beginning of beta shift Jim had visited the lab, where both Bones and Spock were working now. What Jim saw left him rolling his eyes for the rest of the shift.

'The cells in dish three have definitely thrived', said McCoy's muffled voice. The doctor was peering into a hypersensitive microscope and poking at a flat petri dish with a glass stick. On the desk next to him was a small tower of similar closed petri dishes, each marked with Spock's precise handwriting.

'Affirmative. These cells proliferate 2.52 times faster than those cultured on dishes one and two,' confirmed Spock, who occupied the second microscope. The Vulcan was operating a sequencer at the same time. 'It seems the modified transmembrane alpha-chain molecules were even more effective than we anticipated.'

Jim leaned against the door frame, careful to keep quiet and not to disturb the dynamic duo. Neither had yet noticed the Captain. _Did Spock just say_ 'we'? he thought to himself. _I guess the time of miracles isn't over, after all_. Jim watched as Spock pushed his wheeled chair over to the sequencer and carefully inserted samples of the cell culture to the analyzer.

'Blazes!' Bones exclaimed. 'You're right! Get the whole sequence from these ones. The penetrance of the genetic expression is complete, and the chains are firmly rooted to the cellular matrix. If these fellows can bind oxygen the way we expect... obviously they release carbon dioxide, the previous tests showed that well enough...'

 _Okay, now I truly do believe in miracles. I'm positive Bones just said_ 'we'! Jim blinked his eyes in surprise. He had never, ever expected these two to work in absolute harmony, collaborating seamlessly like the figurative well-lubricated engine. Neither Bones nor Spock had yet noticed him standing there by the doorway, smiling to himself. At the same time a hint of sadness flicked in Jim's eyes as his eyes locked on Spock, whose posture looked slightly stooped. Was the Vulcan growing tired? Had he slept at all during the past week?

'The sequencing will take a few hours. In the meantime I'll run some oxygen-reaction tests, and you can return to your patient. How does that sound?' Bones asked and glanced at Spock. Jim felt his eyes rolling in their sockets. _Your patient._ Hoo boy! Spock would not let this one go unnoticed. Jim couldn't see Bones's face, but the tone of the surgeon's voice was strangely friendly and relaxed, even pleading. He actually meant what he had said. _Spock's patient_.  _Bones takes care of Spock_ , Jim thought. _He won't let my Vulcan tire himself_. Jim never noticed the genitive which so sneakily had slipped to his thoughts. His Vulcan indeed.

'I shall return before the sequencing is completed,' Spock said and stood up, stretched himself like a big cat and then turned towards the door. He nodded to Jim as he walked past and headed towards the turbolift. Jim stared at the retreating back and listened to the hasty steps of his First Officer before turning back towards the sickbay.

'You look tired. Everything okay?' Jim asked McCoy, who also stretched his back and yawned. Jim stepped to the replicator and produced a cup of double espresso. It was true poison, but it would have to do now. He gave the steaming, tiny cup to McCoy, who accepted it gratefully.

'Yeah. Spock's been working day and night on this, but we've got some results to show for it, too. Although... I don't know, Jim, I'm just a simple country doctor! How am I supposed to cure something I don't even know?' Bones emptied the espresso in a gulp, grimaced and sighed as the caffeine began to buzz in his veins. 'How are things up on the Bridge?'

 _Lonely_ , Jim thought. _Lonely, empty, dull, serious_. 'The usual,' he replied and patted Bones on the back. 'When will you give back my First Officer, hmm?' There it was again, that stubborn genitive. Bones, at least, was too tired to notice it.

'Spock? Well, we've got one part of the cure figured out now, but it's effectiveness must still be verified. Then there's the compliance tests, toxicity evaluations, long-term risk evaluation, tests for possible combined effects... Impossible to say, Jim. Did Starfleet give an end date to this experiment?'

Jim shook his head. Spock's permission to focus on the cure had been confirmed even quicker than usual, and Jim suspected Spock had pulled some strings to get things rolling. It wasn't like Spock, but who knows? After all, this was a unique opportunity. Even with the hurry the reassignment had been left without any handy loopholes which Jim could have used to steal Spock back to himself.

Bones got up and began setting up automated oxygen-binding tests for a selected amount of cell samples. At the same time he took the chance to explain the details of the cure to Jim, and to complain about gazillion little things which Jim could do nothing about. All the while Jim kept thinking about Spock. He was happy, of course, that his officer was involved in such an important task as finding the cure for Kepral's Syndrome, but... well, he did miss Spock. Jim let Bones rant on while he stood still, lost in his thoughts.

He missed Spock's voice. That rich, soft voice which was so comforting and so reliable. Whatever Spock said had an elegant ring to it, and Jim could always believe each word. Spock did not try to pull his leg or annoy him.

He missed Spock's presence. Even if Spock was on the other side of the Bridge, Jim felt his presence. It was that straight posture and the silent calmness, and the way Spock practically radiated reassurance. When Spock was around everything would be alright.

He missed Spock's hair and face. As vain as it sounded, Jim missed the way that nearly black hair shone and sparkled, and how exact Spock's hair always was. The perfect hair was the perfect frame for the perfect face: calm but attentive, serious but not stern, chiseled but not gaunt. Jim thought about the black eyelashes over the dark, velvety eyes, and swallowed.

He missed Spock's pointy ears. Jim used to make fun of those ears, just to cover his own interest and fascination. Jim suffered whenever Spock had to cover his ears to appear more human-like. The curve of those beautiful ears was practically made to be nibbled and kissed! Were the earlobes of the Vulcans as sensitive as those of the Ferengi? It would be most pleasant to find out. Mentally Jim filed this thought under 'things to do with Spock', although that metaphysical list was getting rather long. Jim felt a pleasant tingling below his abdomen as he permitted himself to remember a few items on the list. There was the thing with the blindfold and a feather, for starters... and a one particularly interesting idea involving champagne and liquid chocolate...

'Captain,' said Spock's soft voice. Jim whirled around in surprise, saw Spock, felt his cheeks flush crimson and quickly turned away again. Jim thought he saw Bones giving him a weird look. Had the doctor noticed? _Yeah, he knows_ , Jim thought with resignation. _I'll hear from this later. He'll tell me to stay focused to our historical mission and not to get involved. He'll say I have the hots for a computer._

'Captain?' Spock said again. Jim realized the Vulcan was trying to get past him to the sequencer, and promptly moved to make way for Spock. Bones was still busy configuring the whatever machine he was currently using, and Jim had no idea what the doctor had been talking about during the past minutes. Spock glanced at both microscopes, sat down by his desk and was immediately focused on his work.

Standing there in the lab Jim suddenly felt like the proverbial third wheel: useless and clueless. It was time to go. 'Spock, meet me at my quarters at your earliest convenience,' Jim said just before leaving the sickbay. He'd have to tell the man. He'd have to come clean before he went entirely insane.

He'd get Spock back no matter what.

***

There was a sharp knock on Jim's door. The captain gave one last look to his quarters. The lights were dim, only a few strategically placed spot lights gave the room a romant- no, a soft atmosphere. Jim was wearing a light tunic, which was already sticking to his lightly sweating back. The room temperature was way above comfortable for Jim, but should be just right for a Vulcan.

The computer was turned off. The volume of the intercom had been set to minimum. The bed was made, everything was tidy and clean, and the three-dimensional chess set was polished and placed in the middle of the cabin. Jim couldn't resist a last glance at a mirror, by which he combed his hair back with his fingers and grinned to the handsome man looking back at him. 'Enter,' the captain then commanded, picked up a cup of steaming tea and and turned towards the door. Soft music flowed from the speakers all around the cabin: old tunes played on a Vulcan lyre.

Spock stepped in and spent a moment taking in the surroundings. Jim smiled his most pleasant smile, the one he usually had reserved for beautiful women whose attention had to be diverted. His eyes sparkled as he handed the tea to Spock. The Vulcan took the cup and sniffed the steam, which rose from the cup in soft misty swirls.

'This is authentic Vulcan herbal tea, Jim,' Spock said. The tiniest change in his intonation betrayed his surprise to Jim, who turned his smile a few degrees hotter. Spock tasted the tea and pursed his lips up approvingly.

'Scotty isn't the only one on board with a secret stash of his own,' Jim admitted. It was true: he had made the tea himself from tea leaves he had had delivered from a small agricultural village in southern Vulcan. Jim nodded towards a couch he had acquired a while ago, and watched as Spock sat down rigidly and sharply. The captain cocked his head to one side. 'I know what would make that taste even better. How about a drop of Saurian brandy? They say it highlights the taste of... of... one herb or the other.'

Spock's disapproving look was enough to convince Jim he'd have to take the hard way to relax the Vulcan. He'd have to take it easy now, Jim thought while pouring a generous helping of said brandy to a glass, gulping it and refilling it again. Take it easy.

The one single spotlight in the ceiling shone on Spock's face, leaving half in the shadows. The light danced on Spock's hair, and brought out his sculptural cheeks and chin. The tip of Spock's ear had a slight green tint to it. His light blue eyelids shimmered. Jim caught a glimpse of a keen Vulcan tongue between the delicately parted lips as Spock took another gulp of his tea.

'I want you, Spock.'

Jim nearly choked on his brandy when he heard the words leaving his own mouth. _Did I just say that? Yes. Yes I did._ The captain knew his face was now fire engine red. He was just about to launch into nervous explanations when Spock raised his eyes from his tea.

'I know,' Spock said softly. His voice was even deeper than before. Jim nearly choked again. To avoid further accidents he placed the half-full glass of excellent brandy on a side table.

'Y-You... You know?' Jim stammered finally. Spock was still sitting in that rigid, official posture. His face betrayed no emotions. His voice had been level and strong. His hands did not tremble, unlike Jim's, who could have whipped a gallon of cream just by holding the bowl. 'How?'

'I assure you, Jim, it is only a logical conclusion. The tone of your complexion often changes when we are alone, presumably due to increased peripheral blood circulation. Your voice and intonation are considerably different when you address me. Also, with me you use 67 % more positive adjectives than with Bones or other people you regard as your friends. You always make time for me. It also seems you accept behavior from me which you would not accept from other members of the crew.'

'Such as?' was the only thing Jim managed to say. He leaned against a table just to stay upright. This was not going according to his plan. He was supposed to be telling Spock how exquisitely fine officer he was, and how wonderful a friend, and really, how it only would be expected if their relationship turned to an even deeper one. He was not supposed to hang on to a table for his dear life.

'I have been away from the Bridge more than absolutely necessary.'

'You've fulfilled your duty from the lab. For what I've heard, you're done more than your share.'

'My primary duty is to be beside you on the Bridge, not doing lab work for the medical team. You have also allowed me to apparently neglect several security regulations and biological precautions regarding Mr. Krios.'

Jim couldn't prevent an annoyed grimace. _Again that name. The bloody frog!_

'You seemed to know what you're doing. Besides, biosecurity is Bones's specialty.'

Jim felt a pang of desperation. He was drifting even further from the agenda. Spock. Spock was the agenda. The Captain forced a smile on his face and sat down next to Spock. Their thighs touched. Spock did not seem to notice, but Jim felt a pleasant tingle shooting up his spine.

Spock drained his cup and leaned forward to place it on the table. He turned his elegant face towards Jim, and his eyes seemed suddenly to be full of sadness. 'Jim, please understand. I am a Vulcan.'

'Yeah? So was your father,' Jim said as lightly as he could. Suddenly he was back on track. He refrained from mentioning explicitly how Spock was actually only half-Vulcan, for he knew Spock regarded his human genes as an affliction. A new thought occurred to him. 'Unless you see it a shame, being with me.'

'I assure you that is not the case.'

'Then what's the problem? Hey, I'm not a teenager anymore, and Bones keeps complaining I've put on a few pounds, but for a human male I'm actually quite a nice specimen!' Jim grinned and flashed his hottest smile, the one that never failed.

'Affirmative.'

Jim's mind did a few happy somersaults, until his sense rewound the sentence and played it again. Had Spock just confirmed that Jim had, in fact, gained weight? Kirk had never been a patient man, and this was definitely not the time to start. He sighed and got up. His was suddenly feeling cold despite the high temperature, a glass of brandy and the presence of Spock. The game was over.

'I see. Let's just forget it. So, how's the cure coming up? I guess you'll get that Drell healed in no time. It will probably earn you and Bones quite a few prizes in our galaxy - and theirs.'

Spock too got up, his eyes firmly locked on Jim's. It was clear to Jim Spock was about to say something important, something profound. The air crackled between them. Spock's eyes were flashing, like he had been watching a thunderstorm inside his own mind. For a moment the silence between them overran the background music and the ever-present hum of the ship's engines.

'There is an inadequate amount of data for an estimation,' Spock finally said. The moment had passed. Internally Jim let his self-assurance beat down his rising disappointment.

'I understand. I won't bother you again, unless you are needed on the Bridge. We're currently in a known sector, but we will be warping to an unknown cluster soon, so be prepared.'

'Acknowledged.'

There should have been a meaningful look between them. There should've been a shared feeling of regret, and then a spark of screw-the-regulations and then a kiss. There should've been a touch that lingered just a bit too long. There should've been a hint of a smile on Spock's beautiful face.

All there was was a swoosh as the doors opened and closed when Spock left the Captain's quarters.

Jim's ego and disappointment fought another round. It left him feeling battered, but not beaten. Jim smiled to himself. _I'll get you yet, my sweet little Spock_ , he thought gently. _You're my Kobayashi Maru. I'll win you over, one way or another._


	4. Chapter 4

Spock felt the first signs of fatigue right after he left the Captain's quarters. His feet were approximately 5.4 % weaker than usual, his heart rate was elevated and his mind was clearly not functioning at peak performance. He had doubted. He had meant to say something to Jim, but hadn't. Hesitation was not acceptable. Suboptimal functioning was not acceptable.

Spock withdrew to his own quarters for a quiet meditation, and if it should be necessary even after the meditation, a rest. He had barely had time to change his uniform to his smooth, black meditation robes when a signal informed him someone was waiting behind the door. Feeling the weight of his duties unusually heavy on his shoulders Spock suppressed a feeling of mild annoyance and allowed the visitor to enter.

Against the bright lights of the corridor Spock could just make out Thane's profile in the doorway. The Drell stepped in and presented Spock with a brown ceramic cup filled with steaming, sweet-scented liquid.

'This is _shar,_ a drink prepared from selected herbs, berries and the juice of a rare plant. On Rakhana, the old Drell home planet, blessed _shar_ was traditionally given to express deep gratitude,' Thane explained, his eyes keenly following the twirling tendrils of steam rising from the cup and disappearing before they reached the low ceiling. 'I could not obtain all of the necessary ingredients, and for that I am sorry. I hope the _shar_ will please you. May you be blessed like I was by your kindness earlier.'

Spock took the cup carefully, but found it to be only warm, not scalding hot as he had anticipated. 'I believe thank you is the correct phrase,' he said simply. His skin was beginning to shiver: he was too tired to regulate his body temperature effectively, and the meditation robe was a poor guard against the harsh air conditioning of the space ship.

Thane nodded, turned and left. Spock was surprised – with humans gratitude was never this simple. Humans expressed their thankfulness over and over again in so many words and gestures it felt like a flood. Humans touched when thanking, they patted one's back, shook hands, grabbed one by the arms or even hugged, all of which Spock found unpleasant. Reluctantly his mind recalled several moments when he himself had touched a human ( _Jim, it was always Jim_ ), and how it had been everything but unpleasant. Spock drowned the thoughts with a gulp of the _shar_ he had been offered.

Spock sat back down on the floor, took another gulp of the hot herbal drink and set up his meditation lamp. His robes rustled quietly. Spock closed his eyes, took a deep breath and concentrated.

The images of Jim returned in a flash. Jim's playful laughter rang in his ears and bounced in his skull. Visions of Jim's shining eyes were so bright Spock was forced to squeeze his eyes shut as to protect himself from the images. ' _Spock!_ '' Jim's voice said inside his mind.

Spock's eyes went wide. The room around him swayed gently, then swam back to focus. Soon he heard Jim's pearly laughter again. Spock's head whipped around, but he was alone, just like he knew he was. Still he could even sense Jim in the room with him, could almost hear his footsteps behind his back, always behind him, no matter how he turned his head or spun around. Something was wrong.

Spock's eyes followed the swaying reflections of the ceiling lamps on the surface of the _shar_. He stumbled up, powered up the chromatograph he had on his desk and asked the computer to analyze the drink for any poisonous substances. Jim followed him from the floor to the desk and breathed so loudly Spock could hear him... except that there was no one else in the room. While waiting for the analysis to complete Spock calculated estimations for complex fluid dynamics models to evaluate how much his condition affected his ability to carry out his duties. He performed the calculations 10 seconds slower than usually. Unacceptable.

' _Analysis complete_ ,' the computer announced in its electric, fragmented voice. ' _The sample contained no substances, which alone or in combination can prove harmful to Vulcans or humanoids_. '

Spock felt Jim lean his head against his shoulder. Spock's dark eyes darted around the room, trying to find a reason for his ailment. Briefly he even considered the possibility of the Time, but his latest _pon farr_ had been only 4.37 years ago. Spock grunted with effort, squeezed his hands to fists and felt his body tremble as he focused. His mind raced, traced his every step, every breath and every move backwards, trying to find a reason-

There.

The cup.

Spock recalled exactly how Thane had stood when he gave the cup to Spock, how Spock picked it up, turned it in his hands, and finally drank from it. His mind painted a perfect picture of the moment his parted lips touched the ceramic surface which Thane's fingers had touched just seconds before.

'Computer, describe the effects of the hallucinogen found on the skin of the Drell.'

_'It is a mild hallucinogen consisting of chemically unstable structures, which react with natural neural transmitters, producing short-timed hallucinations and sensations. The effects last from five to thirty minutes. Inadequate data for a complete biochemical, chemical and pharmacogenetic analysis.'_

Spock sat down on his chair and held his head on his hands. Jim caressed his hair and squeezed Spock's shoulder as if to comfort him. _'I will be your shield when your own guard is down,'_ the apparition whispered. _'You will not be disturbed. Let go, Spock. Just let go.'_

And Spock did. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and fell, fell to pleasant thoughts and sensations involving a certain Starfleet Captain he had so long wanted.

_***_

Jim laid on his bunk with his hands tugged under his head and stared at the ceiling. He had just finished mapping a route which would have a convenient stop at a conveniently close-by scientific settlement, where his Green-skinned Lizardman of an Enemy would be most welcome, and where the work for finishing the cure could continue. Now he was planning much more important things. He had made Plans.

First there was the Science Project Plan. Jim only needed a scientific task, which was absolutely critical for Starfleet and would require both him and Spock to work together for countless hours, in private, so that Jim could let his natural charm work its way into that fast-beating Vulcan heart.

Second on the list was a classic, a Shore Leave On Vulcan. Jim could get faint and weak in the heat, and require Spock to tend to him and to show his emotional and caring side. Or they could just walk around together, indugle in the subtle art of male-bonding and at some point, when the sun would hit Jim's face just so and make his eyes gleam and his hair shimmer like gold, Spock would fall for him.

Third on the list was a simple Plan: Wine, 3D-chess and again that Natural Kirk Charm.

Jim had to admit all his plans followed the same pattern:  
1\. Catch the attention of his target.

2\. Smile.

3\. Sex.

He had a nagging doubt if any of his plans would actually work, although so far they always had. Hmm. Maybe if he elaborated a little on the Science Project Plan...

The doors to his quarters opened with a hiss, a screech and rather complex clanking sounds. Jim made a mental note to mention it to Scotty the next time he saw the Scotsman. 'Yes?' Jim called.

'-', said Spock, who remained standing at the doorway, his eyes so dark they seemed almost black.

'What is it, Mr. Spock?'

Spock took a step forward, just enough to let the door close with even more clanking and hissing.

'Captain, I-'

'Jim. It's Jim.'

'Jim, I would appreciate a confirmation concerning your earlier proclamation.'

Jim sat up on his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. 'Come again?' he ventured and shook his head to set those stubborn golden curls into place.

'Do you still seek to initiate an intimate relationship with me?'

Jim looked straight at Spock, but the Vulcan's face was as calm and impassive as his voice. The Captain felt his own cheeks flushing a bit, so he rubbed his face to hide the confusion and the excitement beneath it. 'Well... I mean... well, yeah, I guess so, yes.' Jim took a breath and dared to look into Spock's eyes again. 'Yes, I do.'

'It would compromise us both. An emotional attachment to a crew mate clouds logical thinking, and may put others in risk,' Spock commented. To Jim it sounded like something Spock had memorized, not something he truly believed in. Still, it was something Jim too had thought about for a long time.

'Spock, I don't believe anything in the Universe could cloud your logical thinking. As for me... well, I am a Captain, first and foremost. I do what I have to do.'

Spock was quiet. To fill up the silence Jim stood up, walked towards Spock and placed his hand on the Vulcan's shoulder. Spock's body trembled at the touch, but so little Jim could barely sense it through the fabric of the uniform. Under the fabric he sensed Spock's warm skin, his muscles, his pulse, his essence. That reminded him of the touch-telepathy of all Vulcans, and quickly the Captain withdrew his hand to avoid causing any distress. It had always been hard for him to not touch the only man he really, truly wanted to touch.

'A close infatuation with an officer could destroy your career. It is not a risk I am willing to take,' Spock said after a long silence. The words remained hanging in the air like razor-sharp pendulums, waiting to swing and destroy that which hadn't even begun yet. But Jim just grinned.

'So what is the Starfleet going to do? Build another Enterprise, train the crew, man it, send it to our way to the unknown space and arrest me?'

'Jim, you know very well they can demote your in an instant, and name another Captain.'

'That, Spock, would be you. You're the next in command. I know, I know,' Jim said when Spock was about to protest,'you don't want to be in command. But it would be your duty, so you'd do it to the best of your capabilities. Which is entirely beside the point here.'

'I agree,' said Spock.

'So....' Jim said softly and looked at Spock through his eyelashes, smiling just enough to look charming but not over-confident and selfish. 'What is that you want? You already know what I desire.' Jim grabbed his right wrist with his left hand to stop himself from touching Spock again. 'And what happened to you, anyway? Why the sudden change of mood?'

'I am what I am, Jim. A Vulcan.'

Spock turned away from Jim. His brow was wrinkled and his lips tight, signs which Jim immediately recognized as the Human equivalent for reluctance and shame. He let Spock be and just waited.

'Vulcans... have emotions. We seek to master them, and many find it distasteful to express or even admit experiencing emotional states of mind. To admit affection to is admit a fault. I am faulty, Jim.'

'Spock, I've never known anyone as self-critical and logical as you. Now tell me: does this so called fault of yours honestly affect your ability to function as a Starfleet Officer? Do you think that I would have acted differently in the past had I not felt what I felt towards you?'

This time the silence took even longer.

'Negative.'

Now Jim risked a touch, and squeezed Spock's arm in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. ''Tell me, Spock. What do you want? I want to hear it from you. Say it!'

With a confident air and steady voice Spock uttered those precious words: 'I want you, James T. Kirk.'

Jim kissed Spock so roughly his own lip began to bleed a little, but he did not even notice it. He was a torrent, sweeping Spock with him, now that those words had finally released him. His emotions flooded over Spock, who first fought back, but soon yielded and responded to the kiss. Their hands met, and while their lips touched their fingers entwined in a Vulcan kiss and a tender caress. Jim felt his own raging devotion flowing back to him from Spock. Warm, tingling sensation spread through his body from where his skin touched Spock's, and a tender fuzzy feeling enveloped his mind.

When the kisses finally ended, Jim could not let go. He kept his arms around Spock's neck and gazed to those beautiful dark eyes.

'You still did not tell me why the sudden change of mind.'

'Maintaining a suppressed need between two Officers wastes considerable amounts of energy and time, and poses a greater risk to logic than expressing that need,' Spock formulated. 'I also inadvertently ingested a mild hallucinogen.'

Jim blinked.

'Huh?'

With scientific precision Spock recalled his experience with the Drell hallucinogen.

'So you're high now?' Jim asked, deflated.

'No. My body metabolized the substance entirely in a matter of minutes. But under its influence I was … I had...'

Jim's lips twisted to a wide grin. 'You had what, Spock? Tell me, what were your hallucinations like, if they brought you to me?'

Spock lowered his eyes, and the crease on his brow melted away. Jim swore he saw a hint of a greenish hue appear on those chiseled Vulcan cheekbones. His entire body tingled again from excitement and anticipation.

'Come on, you can't leave me hanging like this!'

'Jim, 95 % of your body weight is on your feet. I assure you there is no 'hanging' involved.'

'You know what I mean.'

Just then, like a saving grace for Spock, came a high whistle of the intercom. The Goddess of Embarrassed Vulcans, who sounded very much like Uhura, called for the Captain.

Reluctantly Jim let go. 'I have to go. Rest now, Spock, you still look tired. You can stay here. But when I return... you owe me an explanation.'

Spock's eyes gleamed. His lifted his hand with two fingers held up, a request for a Vulcan kiss. Jim responded.

'I will fulfill that desire, my Captain. When you return.' There was the slightest of smiles playing on Spock's lips.

' _Captain to the Bridge. Acknowledge, please._ '

Jim rushed out from his quarters, turned at the door and shouted: 'See you soon, love you!' He turned and saw the astonished yeoman Rand.

'One can never love his privacy enough,' Jim explained, grabbed a cup of coffee from Rand's tray and nearly ran to the Bridge.

He smiled all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story. Please leave a comment or kudos if you have a moment, I would appreciate it very much :)


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